With Love, Arthur Kirkland
by TheMillionthPiece
Summary: Not everyone is how they seem.


/ Hi. Before I begin this very short one-shot, I have a warning just for you:

Do not, I repeat, do _not_ read this one-shot if you cannot stand gore. If I get any reviews talking about how much you hate gore, I will take immediate action and delete this story, posting it only onto Adult Fanfiction.

Also… This was, originally, part of an ending of a story I wanted to make about a small love-triangle between Arthur, Alfred, and Matthew. I decided against making the whole thing because – well… I'm just plain lazy. On with the story!

Oh, and if you have any questions… Please PM me. I will answer them ASAP. \

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Red. That's all I could see.

Not tainted.

Not light.

One simple color: red.

And then… There was a hand, a smooth shade of peach. My hand - covered in the red. Why is it covered in red?

More importantly, what is it?

I raised it up to my lips in a slow, turtle-like manner, flicking my tongue over it with curiosity.

It… It tastes…

It tastes exactly how blood would taste: metallic, bitter… Delicious.

…Delicious? No. I hate blood. Even if I am full of it, I hate it. I have a completely legitimate reason why.

I lowered my eyes to look at the blood now caked in my fingernails, staining the tips with a shade of crimson. Disgusting. How can I even feel so… So unemotional when I probably look horrid?

A small sigh escaped the bottom of my throat as I shrugged the idea off. Now's not the time to be thinking about such petty things. My eyes then wandered over to the corner, where the red seemed most abundant.

Oh…

That's right.

Staggering towards the corner, a bright smile began to play at the corners of my lips. I remember now. I remember everything. I remember why I have red on my hands, feet, and everywhere else. I remember why I feel so empty inside. I even remember why I'm walking in such a weird manner.

Finally, after what seemed like an hour of walking, I kneel down to the ground. My butcher knife, which was always polished and put away (I only brought it out for special occasions, like when the Queen came over), was on the floor, and, like me, covered in blood.

I giggled. Why is this so funny all of a sudden? I just did one simple thing. Sin, actually. I committed the sin about six minutes ago, if I also remember that correctly.

But I couldn't stop giggling. Soon enough, I found myself chuckling, and then laughing hysterically.

Suddenly… It hit me.

I killed him. I killed Alfred's best friend.

The idea stuck in my head as I reached out and grabbed the knife, looking up at the lifeless, blond-haired boy in front of me. He looks so much better with his mouth hanging open with blood and tears dribbling down his chin, his eyes wide with fear than what he looked like when he saw Alfred – _my _Alfred – coming his way.

Matthew deserved what was coming to him. He deserved it the most when he purposefully seduced Alfred. He specifically knew that Alfred was mine two weeks ago.

I came a bit closer to the body, clamping onto a huge portion of his creamy blond hair and yanking it towards me.

'_I wonder…'_ I thought, positioning the sharpened knife next to Matthew's neck. I didn't even have to wait in order for me to know what I wanted to do. Snapping my arm back to my side with a quick motion, the knife sliced right into the side of the boy's neck, revealing beautiful pink throat tissue to my emerald green eyes. What a sight…

Without having to dig my over-sized utensil into his flesh, I simply ripped off the remaining skin that kept the head connected to the body, hacking my knife through the tiny piece of human meat as the figure slumped to the side. Inside of my chest, there was a strong urge to poke the bloodshot, amethyst eyes I saw everyday out and feed them to the cat next door.

I shook my head.

I can't do that. Not until my job is finished.

Humming "As I Walked Forth" in a jolly tone, I raised the head up, examining it as I ignored all the blood that spurted out of the decapitated body. _'I really do wonder…'_

Getting out of my kneeling position, I staggered over again to the wooden table that I always ate on with Alfred, Francis, and the bloody berk that took my precious Alfred away from his rightful owner: me. It was still a bit dirty from the last few nights of eating fast food and pizza.

And, like always, my favorite teacup, which was decorated with careful golden swirls, was sitting on top of it, right in front of my chair.

Perfect.

Hanging Matthew's dripping head over the cup and easily filling it up to its maximum with a delicious red liquid, I thought, with a bright smile and elated eyes:

'…_if Alfred would come home to me and enjoy some of my new tea~?'_


End file.
